


The White Walls

by princesasophie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Amnesiac Draco, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Second Wizarding War, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesasophie/pseuds/princesasophie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The last thing I remember about you, you were kind of crazy but there was this fire in you, those ideals you were wearing yourself out throwing in my face. What's left of you now?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The White Walls

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Les Murs Blancs](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/112837) by Lil's C. 



* * *

_“ _I look at you but all I can see is the blood, all of this blood that you have on your hands...”__

  
I used to love the color white. It was pure, it represented life, the brightness. But that was in the past. Today, the walls are desperately white, and when I watch them for too long, this bright color starts to make me nauseous.

The corridors are also too small. I've been waiting for days and days, my heart beating, a lump in the throat, and sometimes, the laughs splashing all over the walls shuts down my stomach.

“You're still here?” Harry asks softly.

My eyes refuse to look at him, I can't hear once more that my look is faded because I've cried too much.

“Where do you expect me to be?”

“Anywhere else. This place is sinister...”

Anyways, he never really liked hospitals. Those wandering places, of which you only get out with a lump in the throat and shaky hands.

I watch people passing through tirelessly.

 

* * *

 

“He woke up.”

It had ringed through the air, brutally. And when I saw his empty grey look, I wondered why I waited for so long.

“The fuck you're doing here?”

I recognize the quavers that used to be in his voice when we were just kids so I step back. His contempt, barely concealed. I shiver.

“I swear Granger, you're going to pay for the slap you gave me. And I promise that I'm going to make sure that this goddamn hippogriff is killed!”

“What?”

It's like a glass falling on the ground in my head. I can almost hear my blood pumping in my temple.

A Mediwizard puts his hand on my arm, to hold me back, but I open the door and ran away.

The walls are too white.

* * *

  
  


“We can't guarantee that he will recover his memory. It might be irreversible. Apparently, his last memory is of when he was still in school.

  
  


A laugh crosses my lips. I can see the doctor's forehead wrinkling as if he is worried. I lean on a wobbly table, which starts to shake. Just like I do. I'm identical to the table, in unstable equilibrium, about to break.

I look at him through his room's window. In his eye, I can see the shadow of fear and doubt dancing, frenetically.

He turns his head, and our eyes locks. His are furious.

My heart breaks and falls at my feet. Or what is left of my heart. I have this feeling stuck on my skin. Because I am now the only one who will ever remember of our kisses, only my skin will keep the prints of his teeth.

I can feel the ghosts of our pasts caressing my neck. I am alone. Desperately.

 

* * *

 

“Get the hell out of here.”

Icy voice. His voice gnaws at my heart, but I refuse to move. I want to find back the little part of myself that I used to be. The one he knew, the one who never backed down, the one who stayed up even when he was yelling at it to get away.

With time, my pain stiffened, just as my secrets slowly disappeared. I am now just a shadow of what I had once been.

I stay for hours, or maybe even more.

He stops talking to me. He is slowly adapting to my presence, just like one would do with a particularly annoying and repetitive sound.

And I stay there, watching his eyes which are too grey, his hands covered in a metaphorical blood he doesn't remember spilling.

And then a few days later, he flinches, and I hear in a whisper:

“Get out. Please.”

 

* * *

 

“It snowed all night long.”

I nod. Harry puts his hand on mine. I have always been surprised that he is always by my side. Like a loyal, infallible soldier.

And today, he is here with me, holding my hand when I'm at the bedside of a traitor, of a murderer.

I never deserved someone like him.

 

* * *

 

“I've never seen you so dull, Granger.”

“What do you mean?”

“The last thing I remember about you, you were kind of crazy but there was this fire in you, those ideals you were wearing yourself out throwing in my face. What's left of you now?”

“The ashes.”

I look down because that's the only thing left to do. Just hearing about what I used to be is making me sick.

He starts to snigger, like a teenager.

“You killed people, Draco.”

His snigger stopped, suddenly. He looked at me with prying, burning eyes.

“A lot?”

“Yeah.”

“I don't remember.”

He says that with a smile that made me shiver.

“You're lucky, Draco, to not remember. I remember each of them, I remember their screams tearing me apart from the inside, I remember the look they all had just before they died. You know, Draco, I remember...”

“Stop that.”

“What? You don't want to hear about the people you killed?”

“No. And stop calling me by my first name, as if you knew me, as if we weren't enemies anymore.”

 

* * *

 

“Did we love each other?”

He looks at me like a child does when he hopes he is going to be lied a little longer, just so he can be protected a little more.

“No. No, I don't think we did.”

“So why?”

I don't want to let him take me into his darkness again, so I look down when I see his eyes.

“I don't know. Do you need a reason?”

“I'm just trying to understand. The only thing I remember is wanting you dead and buried by my own hands.”

A sigh escaped my lips, I was exhausted.

“During the War, I was a nurse. You came, you were seriously injured.”

“And you treated Deatheaters in your Order?”

“No. They didn't know who you were.”

“But you. You knew who I was, right?”

I nod, fastly, because shame puts a lump in my throat.

So I stand up because I can't dig up cadavers anymore.

 

* * *

 

“It made me feel dizzy.”

“What?”

“You. Me. We weren't made for something like that, you know. When I looked at you, I wanted to scratch your eyes out, I wanted to burn down your smile and sink my nails into your skin. We screwed each other like teens, and we thought that dancing in the flames would save us. Bullshit. You don't remember this?”

“No.”

My eyes shake.

“Why you? You've always been a girl full of principles, and upright. I still can't really believe what you're saying.”

“You were always telling me that you couldn't be saved, that I should let you die.”

“And?”

“Well, someone who doesn't have any remorse doesn't want to die.”

He shivers.

“And then we fought, each on a side, each in a way. I healed people you injured. I fixed what you broke, I followed your steps, wiping the blood that you had on your hands.

“I don't remember,” he repeats, tirelessly.

“Too bad.”

 

* * *

 

“Something came back to me last night. You were there... Just rolled up in a sheet, with wide eyes who almost hide the rest of your face, your red cheeks contrasting with your pale skin... Your hair was all entwined, you were drop dead gorgeous.”

For a moment, I stay there. I am hanging on to his every word, my heart ready to explode.

“But... that was just some kind of dream, right? It wasn't really you.”

“I guess...”

There is a sob on the corner of my mouth. I look away and get out. The room had become suffocating.

 

* * *

 

“You all have this look.”

“What look?”

“I don't know, but when I look at you, I feel like I'm going to be sucked out in an endless abyss.”

“It's War, Draco, it stains your pupils. Yours are stained too. You just don't have a mirror.”

I can feel his eyes burning my skin.

“You just have to stop looking at me,” I tell him.

“I can't.”

 

* * *

 

“I'm leaving tomorrow.”

“Good... That's good.”

I can feel my world collapsing.

“What are you going to do?”

“Going back home, at the Mansion. What about you?”

I pause for a moment before answering, because I don't know how to answer.

“ I'm going to try learning with the War, I guess.”

A laugh escapes his lips, and this laugh reverberates in my entire body.

“I'm sure that you thought that with the Peace, everything would go better. That the sun would arrive, that the sun would chase away the clouds...”

“Well yeah. It's what happens in fairytales, right?”

“Fairytales are just words put down on paper. Peace doesn't erase anything. You didn't believe in precept as utopian as Freedom, right?”

I look away, teeth clenched.

“You are no better than all of those criminals who were cleared.”

“I don't remember.”

“Yeah. That's a little too easy.”

“You don't believe me?”

“I don't know. Maybe lying is your free pass to Liberty, maybe it suits you well enough not to remember.”

“If I remembered every time my grips broke you inside, Granger, every time you whispered my name in my ear, moaning, every time you said “no, not this time” right before falling in my arms, I think you would know it.”

I stop breathing. For a second, I want to slap him and tear off his smirk.

I try running my hand through my hair, but I forgot that there is almost none left. I forgot that I cut almost everything this one day where, choking back a sob, I had looked at the ruins of what used to be my life.

“Goodbye then, Draco.”

I know that it's the last time we see each other. His eyes reflect the pain that is in mine.

“Goodbye, Hermione.”  
  
  


 


End file.
